


The Photographs

by StarMaamMke



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Misunderstanding, Mutual Pining, NSFW, jealous hopper, jealous joyce, smut with something resembling a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 19:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13441224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarMaamMke/pseuds/StarMaamMke
Summary: Jim happens upon some interesting photographs of Joyce and completely misreads the situation. Joyce responds to his misunderstanding with more misunderstanding.Basically Trope-a-palooza with sex.Credit to evendanstevens for the scorching moodboard. Love it!





	The Photographs

 

“Bottom’s up,” Karen Wheeler announced, kneeling near Joyce, who was going through a cardboard box of photos on Karen and Ted’s bedroom floor. Without looking away from her task, Joyce held up a glass of wine that was perilously close to being empty. Karen filled it with a flourish and sat near her friend. 

 

“You take a lot of pictures, Karen; your kids must be irritated with you 24/7,” Joyce held up a photo of a ten-year-old Mike looking absolutely miserable in a bunny costume and holding a basket of multi-colored plastic eggs. Karen snatched the picture from her hands and admired it with a muffled coo, while sipping her cabernet. 

 

“Oh, they love it… or my grandchildren will when they need blackmail material.” She and Joyce shared a hearty chuckle before Karen’s face grew grave in expression, her eyes welling up with tears.

 

“Oh, Karen, don’t…”

 

Karen shook her head and covered her mouth with a free hand as the tears rolled down her cheeks, her shoulders shaking slightly from the effort it took to hold back her emotion. 

 

“Ted is a worthless asshole, and this will be good for you.”

 

“Why can’t he let me have the house? He won’t fight for his fucking kids so why does he need it?” 

 

Joyce tutted and pulled Karen into a side hug. “The new place is cute, Karen. We’re really going to make something of it, and once Nancy goes to college, it won’t be so crowded, okay?”

 

Karen gulped and nodded. “Okay.”

 

“Now let’s keep going through these pictures and tearing up the ones with Ted in them.”

 

“Okay, let’s be petty.”

 

Joyce snorted and continued to sift through the box of loose photos until she saw one that made her shriek with a mix of horror and delight. Karen gasped when Joyce pulled the photo from the box and held it in front of her chest with open-mouthed grin, her dark eyes sparkling. “I bet Ted went crazy for this one… is there more?” In the photo, Karen was sprawled out on a brass bed with white linens, her honey-gold hair free and curling over the lacy spread, clad in a silky blush-colored chemise with matching panties; one strap of her chemise fell cheekily down her shoulder, and her smoky-eyed expression was smouldering as she gave the camera a half-smile, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. 

 

Karen blushed furiously, covering her face with both hands for several long moments before she lowered them, revealing a proud, unbothered expression. “Ted never saw those pictures.” 

 

Joyce blinked several times before frowning in confusion. “Huh?”

 

“I got them for me. It was fun and I felt sexy, and when I look back at them, I remember what it was like to feel sexy. Ted would’ve called it a waste of money - probably would’ve said something stupid about catching a cold - oh! - here are the other ones.” Karen dug into the box and handed Joyce a small stack of 8x10 glossy prints. Joyce studied them, a blush rising to her cheeks as she admired the quality, and marvelled at her friend’s easy confidence.

 

“These are really good.”

 

Karen nodded eagerly. “And I’m not naked or anything, plus they threw in hair and makeup for free.” Joyce hummed in approval, as she finished flipping through the stack. When she handed them back to Karen, she was taken aback by the ‘I have an idea!’ look in her friend’s eyes.

 

“Oh no, what?” She moaned. 

 

“You’re had a really rough year, Joyce. When was the last time you did something nice for yourself?” Joyce struggled for an answer as Karen studied her face, poking her in the chin to guide her to turn her head and present a profile. “Jesus, I’d sell a kid for your cheekbones.”

 

“Karen!”

 

“Oh don’t be so dramatic - I’d run a background check first to make sure Holly was going to a nice home. Anyway, it’s a lot of fun and no one would have to know except for Claudia Henderson.”

 

“What?” Joyce’s draw dropped as she processed her friend’s words. There were several points she was struggling to digest. “Why would you even think this would be something I’d want to do, and what does Claudia have to do with it?”

 

Karen rolled her eyes. “Oh please, you’ve been looking like a kid with their nose pressed up to a toy store window since I started talking about it, and it’s Claudia’s side business, actually. How do you think she affords that nice house, especially now that Greg is… you know.” Karen made a strangled noise, closing her eyes and tilting her head to one side for a moment before regarding Joyce with wide, expectant eyes.

 

“Narcoleptic?” 

 

Karen hit her in the arm with the stack of photos. “You know I meant dead! I was just trying to be delicate because of you and…” she trailed off and wrinkled her nose as though Bob being dead was distasteful somehow.

 

Joyce sighed. “Thanks, but I don’t know.”

 

________________

  
  


“Stop squinting - close your eyes, but do it casual-like. Just relax,” Karen fussed as she ran an eyeshadow brush across Joyce’s lids. 

 

Claudia Henderson walked into the dressing room, a pleased grin broke over her kind face when she took note of Joyce and Karen in front of the vanity table. “Thank again for recommending me, Karen! I really do appreciate it, and your hair and makeup work is phenomenal. Remind me to take you on part time when I get a few more clients.” She reached down and took a strand of the black wig Joyce wore between her thumb and forefinger. “This wig is amazing. You would look stunning if you went this color, Joyce.”

 

Joyce smiled shyly, a blush rising to her cheeks.  “I tried doing it in High School. It came out terrible and my dad grounded me for two whole months… you’ve gotten a lot better at hair, Karen.”

 

“Look up, here comes the mascara - thank you, being a trophy wife for twenty years really helped me hone my game. Claudia, I will definitely take you up on that offer when the time comes.”

 

Claudia gave a happy little clap and squeal. “Excellent!” She glanced over at the rack of lingerie on the opposite side of the room. “Those will look stunning, absolutely stunning. Dark and dramatic colors definitely suit you.”

 

Joyce felt the color in her cheeks deepen and spread to her chest and arms. “I’m used to sweatpants and old t shirts. No one would believe I sleep in any of those things.”

 

“No but I’m sure a certain police chief would like to imagine that you do,” Karen teased as she finished Joyce’s eyelashes in time for her eyes to fly open and flash daggers. 

 

“What?” 

 

Karen and Claudia erupted in laughter. 

 

“Oh, sweetie, it’s so obvious to everyone but you… here I thought that’s why you were doing the photoshoot. Dusty says you two are thick as thieves!”

Joyce glowered, not appreciating the fact that her son’s friend was gossiping about her. Dustin was definitely getting a downgrade in her favorite friend’s list. “Well that’s just silly.” She crossed her arms over her chest, pouting like a child in her red silk robe and fishnets - this only made Karen and Claudia laugh louder.

 

“Take that look off of your face and tart up, I have another appointment today,” Claudia scolded through her laughter.

 

Miraculously, the photo shoot itself wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as Joyce feared. Claudia was more than generous with sharing the wine she pulled for the occasion, and after two glasses, Joyce’s confidence increased exponentially. She didn’t even mind it when Karen told her to ‘pretend the chief is watching’ when Claudia told her that her face wasn’t showing enough sex. If anything, the cheeky note improved her posing, though she’d never admit it sober… or drunk.

 

What if he was watching? It was a funny thing to think about - well, maybe funny wasn’t the right word - thrilling. It was a thrilling thing for Joyce to think about; this big, solemn man who had known her for years, seen her through all manner of hell, standing in one corner of the room, projecting an intense blue gaze in her direction as she writhed and twisted her body into all manner of suggestive poses. It gave her a contemplative pause, once the thoughts were firmly in her head and racing about. 

 

“Oh, that one was perfect!” Claudia exclaimed after the snap of the camera pulled Joyce from her reverie.

 

“What?” Joyce hadn’t even realized she’d been posing. She was on her side, studying the shine of the velour on her black gloves. 

 

“It was so natural, very you,” Karen encouraged, garnering a snort from Joyce.

 

“I thought the point of this was to not be me.”

  
  


___________

 

“Shit! We’re going to be late!” Joyce cursed as she threw a couch cushion over her shoulder and knelt to fish a hand in the depths of the offending piece of furniture. 

 

“Everyone can fit in the Blazer, Joyce, it’s not a big deal,” Jim Hopper retorted as he went to inspect the fireplace mantel, pulling the lids off of various knick-knacks and peering inside. They were both dressed nicely; him in pressed trousers, a navy button up, and a tie; Joyce in a black pleated skirt and silky green blouse. Jane had just been cleared to come out of hiding, prompting Jim to put an offer in on a house that wasn’t so much a dilapidated cabin in the woods - the Byers, Hoppers, Dr. Owens, and a handful of preteens plus Steve and Nancy, were all celebrating by renting out a private dining room at The Swan Club - Jim and Jane were getting ready at the Byers because the hot water heater at the cabin chose that day to finally bite the dust. 

 

“Ugh! But then I’ll have to look for them later when I’m tired!” Joyce whined. 

 

“Okay, I’ll go check your room - you keep couch diving. Kids, fan out. We’ll cover more ground that way.” He chuckled when Joyce flashed her angry brown eyes in his direction. 

 

Joyce’s room was tidier than Jim expected. He hadn’t really had time or inclination to take in his surroundings the last time he had stepped inside - that being the night of the attack on the lab. Unlike the rest of the house, which was at the mercy of two teenage boys, everything seemed to have it’s proper, dust-free place; her bed was made, there wasn’t a pile of clothes on her wicker chair, nor was her vanity table cluttered with papers or spare jewelry. The first, and last thing, Jim opened during his search was a large, pewter jewelry box near her makeup case. 

 

“Jim, I found them!” 

 

It was too late. Inside the case was not jewelry, but a stack of small photographs featuring Joyce sprawled across a bed in a black wig and… not much else. 

 

_ Put them down, put them down…  _ Jim’s Good Angel screamed in his ear as a fire ignited under his skin; a curious mix of jealous rage and staggering desire. Unable to help himself, he shuffled through the photographs, dry-mouthed and wide-eyed at the smokey-eyed, scantily clad siren wearing Joyce’s face. She gazed up at the camera with a heavy-lidded expression in some, her eyes were closed and her head thrown back as her gloved hands disappeared between her legs in another - that one would haunt him. 

 

_ Who took these? Who are they for? _ She had said nothing -  _ nothing  _ \- about a new man… but then again, she had kept Bob quiet for as long as she could before people naturally started to talk. 

 

“Hopper? Let’s go!” Joyce’s voice was closer than it was before. She was walking down the hall. Jim shoved the photos back in the box and slammed the lid shut. 

 

“It’s none of your business, it’s none of your business, mind your own fucking business,” he repeated under his breath as he willed his breathing to regulate, his stomach to untwist and his heart to stop racing. “Here I come, Joyce!”

 

She popped her head in the door, a sly grin on her beautiful face. “I hope you weren’t rifling through my underwear drawer,” she teased.

 

Jim laughed weakly at the provocation. “Yeah, if I wanted to get my kicks from granny panties, I’d go to Miami and visit your stepmom.” His right arm was shaking when he walked up to her and offered it. 

 

“Haha. Hey, are you cold, Hop?”

 

Jim shook his head. “No, warm if anything.”

 

Joyce shrugged. “Hope you’re not coming down with something.”

 

_____________

  
  


_ Is it that guy? He keeps smiling at her, but she’s not really giving him the time of day… _ Jim kept scanning the room from his perch at the bar. 

 

The dinner had been lovely, and the teens had been kind enough to escort the younger kids home so the adults (Jim, Joyce, Sam, Karen, Claudia and the Sinclairs) could enjoy a few drinks at the bar. Jim had a hard time enjoying the lively conversation when he was so busy trying to determine who on earth Joyce’s new man could possibly be. Every man who smiled, every man who stopped to compliment her or buy her a drink was a suspect… not that it was any of his business.

 

Joyce was stunning in her skirt, blouse, and low black heels, but in a way that was authentically her. Her makeup was subdued, the boldest choice being the ghost of green eyeshadow that matched her blouse, and the mascara that made her already long lashes seem impossibly thick and sweeping, especially when she closed her eyes and they fanned out on her high, pale cheekbones. Her hair - thick, riotous and auburn - was pulled back in a low-half braid, with messy tendrils near the sides of her bangs. She was still his beautiful, messy, funny approachable Joyce, laughing her wrinkle-nosed laugh at Sam as he complimented her appearance.

 

“You’re a picture tonight, Ma. I just want to run home for my camera and hurry back so I can catch you in this exact moment - you’re glowing.” Joyce snorted and shook her head with another incredulous bark of laughter, her cheeks pink.

 

“Hey, Doc, you wanna step outside for a second?” Jim requested, unable to quell the gruff, angry edge in his voice as the suspicion hit him hard and brutal. 

 

Joyce and Sam both turned to Jim, their faces bearing twin expressions of puzzlement. Sam gave a nervous chuckle and nodded. “Sure, sure.”

 

“Are you seeing Joyce?” Jim demanded the second the pair stepped out of the front entrance and into the parking lot. Sam blinked twice, his eyes wide, and a bewildered smile on his lips.

 

“Am I… you’re joking, of course.” Sam narrowed his eyes as he studied Jim’s dour expression. “Oh, Chiefo, you’re not joking.”

 

Jim grunted in response, shrugging heavily. Sam laughed in response, which made Jim’s stomach do angry flips. “I don’t understand how that’s funny. She’s not a mutant.”

 

“No, indeed she’s not... but me and her? My friend, you are way off base. She’s been sneaking doe eyes at you all evening.”

 

Jim shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I think she’s seeing someone, in fact, I’m pretty certain of it.”

 

Sam merely shrugged and Jim on the shoulder with a sympathetic expression. “You could always ask her, you know.” He received a derisive snort in response.

 

“Yeah. Well, sorry about the interrogation, I guess.”

 

“Jealousy is an ugly feeling, Jim. I hope you crazy kids figure it out soon.”

 

____________

 

The unspoken issue between Jim and Joyce was not resolved at the Swan Club. When he and Sam returned to the bar, Joyce announced that she was sleepy, perfectly okay to drive, and ready to go home. Karen, Claudia, Sam, Art and Amelia Sinclair all gave her warm farewells, conceding that they, too, ought to be heading home. Jim barely met her eyes when he grunted out a goodbye, his thoughts still consumed with the photos in her jewelry box, the mystery of who took them, and whether or not that person…

 

He did catch her hurt expression at his dismissiveness; her large, soft brown eyes wide and questioning, her mauve-stained mouth open ever-so-slightly as though ready to say something in protest. She didn’t, though, and walked out of the club with a dejected slump in her thin shoulders - it took the edge off of his anger as he finished his drink and headed home. 

 

The cabin was empty when he returned, Jane had begged permission to stay at Joyce’s for the night, and Jim had granted it, thankful for any excuse to have time alone to clear his troubled mind. The first thing he did when he walked through the door was hunt down his emergency bottle of Scotch - having done that, he sat down on the couch with a heavy sigh and turned on the television. The ABC Friday Night Movie was some schmaltzy, maudlin affair that he knew Jane would go crazy for; he gave a derisive snort before settling in and staring blankly at the drama unfolding on the screen. 

 

He wondered that man fucked Joyce after taking those photographs. It would make sense, Jim doubted he would have been able to hold the camera steady if he had been in his shoes, let alone keep his hand off of her. Whoever it was, he was clearly the luckiest bastard. 

 

Jim let his mind wander to his favorite photograph in the series: Joyce lying on her side, studying her gloved hands while one of the thin straps of her flimsy black nightie slipped from her shoulder. It was the most natural pose, almost candid in nature, and if Jim closed his eyes, he could imagine her in that same position, lying next to him in bed before he finally made a move - nothing intimidating or intense; he’d reach over and cup her smooth cheek, lean forward and brush the lightest kiss against her crimson lips. He wondered if her lips were as soft as they had been when they were seventeen, back when the two of them were little more than appetites, consuming each other every time they found themselves alone. 

 

His pants felt uncomfortably tight all of a sudden, and the realization filled him with shame. Here he was, spending another lonely night thinking about  _ her _ , and now she was lost to him once more. He hadn’t meant to keep his distance, Jim thought giving her space was more than respectable behavior… but there it was. Another missed opportunity, like the space between finding Will and rediscovering Jane. 

 

Jim Hopper was a colossal idiot with a colossal erection. He groaned as he unbuttoned, and unzipped his pants, hating himself as he reached in and drew out his turgid, angry cock and gave in to the uncontrollable desire that was coursing freely through his blood stream. He closed his eyes, taking himself to the place where her image was permanently branded, and stroked himself at an almost ruthless pace, willing his body to finish quickly - this was not a moment where he wanted to indulge himself by taking his sweet time. Mercifully, he finished within mere minutes, grunting and panting as he came in hot, thick spurts against his palm. 

 

He knew what he had to do.

 

____________

 

“Honey, isn’t your dad coming in for dinner? Or at least to say hello?” Joyce inquired as Jane ran up to her front porch. Jane shrugged, casting a glance over her shoulder in time to see Jim back his Blazer out of the parking lot and drive away. 

 

“I think he has plans,” Jane murmured with a frown.

 

Joyce tried to quell the spiky irritation that crept up her spine. Jim seemed to have a lot of plans lately, mostly on designated Family Nights. “Oh, okay,” she sighed, giving the young girl a warm hug. “Well, more pizza for us then, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

Joyce’s single piece of pizza grew cold on the plate as Jane and the boys devoured theirs; the teens seemed oblivious to her suddenly stormy mood as they chatted on about school, food, video games and movies. Jane was extremely close to being able to register for school, and she drank in any tidbit of information provided that helped prepare her for the experience. Academically, she was set - Nancy and the other tutors (Dustin, Jonathan, Will and occasionally Joyce) were able to discern that very early in the educational process. Joyce tried to smile at the stories Will and Jonathan shared, tried to catch second-hand delight at the wide-eyed, rapturous expression on Jane’s face. 

 

“So how is moving going?” Joyce asked. “Do you and your dad have any help lined up or are you just going it alone?” It wasn’t the best way to figure out if Jim’s ‘plans’ revolved around another woman, but flat out asking Jane seemed… no it would definitely be a fucked up thing to outright ask.

 

“He said something about hiring people. He’s got all the stuff in the cabin, plus the trailer, and he told me to tell you ‘no’ if you or the boys offered to help.”

 

Ah. So Jim didn’t have any plans in the future to allow that particular question to happen face-to-face. The mystery of his sudden distance deepened, and Joyce’s body felt flush with anger and confusion. Her mind wandered to the time, not too long ago, when she was assisting Jim in house hunting. His realtor had been recommended by Karen, and happened to be an absolutely stunning woman - but Joyce supposed being blindingly attractive was an asset in that sort of line of work. 

 

And she flirted. Hard. With Jim. It had started out very subtle, in that completely normal way that salespeople flirted in order to butter up a prospective customer - then she (Gloria Rainne, her name was. “Very burlesque”, Joyce had observed later, though she had wanted to say ‘Porny’) made a remark to Joyce about how much she’d absolutely love the deep closets in the little Cape Cod they had gone to on their first stop. Not thinking, Joyce corrected the woman, saying that she and Jim weren’t an item, so the closet space was immaterial to her, thank you very much. The Scarlet O’Hara act exploded from there. 

 

Was it Gloria? Joyce had definitely noticed her slip Jim her card at the end of the tours… I mean, yes, that was part of the job, handing out business cards, but he definitely had the woman’s number. Gloria, who probably didn’t need a step ladder to kiss Jim; Gloria, with her legs for days and her high-coiffed blonde hair and her… pressed blouses. Infuriating. 

 

And also, wasn’t it a little shitty of Jim to pretend Joyce didn’t exist, now he had a warm body to press himself against? Like the last practically two years hadn’t happened at all? That was a Lonnie move, not a Jim move - or at least not the Jim she knew. Maybe men were all alike; short attention spans, roving eyes and wandering hands and fuck Jim Hopper, he couldn’t just make her disappear like that. Especially not when he was still sending his daughter over to Joyce’s house every Friday evening. Fuck. That.

“What did you say, Mom?” Will asked. Joyce snapped out of her reverie with a blink, looking around the table to see three pairs of wide-eyes staring at her with dropped jaws.

 

“Yeah, fuck what, exactly? Calculus?” Jonathan pressed, a smirk creeping into the corners of his mouth. 

 

“Yes. I hated Calculus, it was the worst.”

 

“Dad usually puts money in the swear jar.”

 

Joyce gave a bitter laugh and rose to her feet, surprised to find that her eyes were burning with tears at the mention of Jim. She sniffed and nodded, her eyes cast slightly upwards towards the overhead light in an effort to stem the tide. “Absolutely, sweetie. I’ll write you an IOU, okay?”

 

“Where are you going?” Jane sounded concerned. Everyone looked concerned. It was crushingly overwhelming. 

 

“Um… to bed. I have a bit of a headache and the light is making it worse. You guys finish up the pizza and have fun until Hopper comes back.”

 

“Okay, Mom. We’ll keep it down,” Jonathan assured softly, his heavy brow knit with worry. 

 

The next Friday, Joyce had Jonathan relay the message that Joyce was far too sick to entertain any guests. It had been an egregious lie - one that she had repeated the week after that.

 

______________ 

 

Joyce was mending a pair of Will’s jeans behind the counter at Melvald’s when Jim came stomping back into her life. 

 

“You look fine to me,” he observed by way of greeting. His tone was biting, and when she looked up from her work, she saw that he was glowering down at her. She sucked in her breath, biting down on the outrage the bubbled under her skin at his tone. She managed an innocent smile, finding it within her to bat her eyelashes at him.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Family nights are Friday, or they were. It’s a tradition, Joyce - the kid looks forward to it every week and we’re going on the third week in a row that you’ve sent Jonathan with a feeble excuse about why it can’t happen. Why?”

 

Joyce bit her bottom lip, feeling a muscle in her cheek twitch. She wrinkled her nose, sucked air in through her teeth and set her mending onto the counter. “I suppose you’re not the only one allowed to come up with every excuse under the sun to avoid unpleasant things.”

 

Jim let out an incredulous bark of laughter, the sound reverberated straight down Joyce’s spine. “So, you admit you were making excuses and now you’re calling Family Night unpleasant. Real charming. New guy must be rubbing off on your in more ways than one… I’d ask if it was Lonnie again but I haven’t really--” He was cut off when Joyce threw Will’s blue jeans at him, aiming for his gut, and hitting her target with precision. 

 

“Get out of here!” She screamed. It was a slow day, so Jim was the only customer, but Donald was in his office counting the morning till - a fact that Joyce was too far gone in her anger to particularly care about. If she lost her crummy job, so fucking be it. 

 

“Ouch! Hey, Joyce that really hurt!”

 

“You deserve it, for coming in to my work and demanding an invitation to my home and then saying - saying… I don’t really understand what you’re saying, but I’m not fucking Lonnie or anyone!” 

 

Jim took a sharp breath and walked closer to Joyce, his hands held in front of his chest as he shushed her. “Easy, Joyce, I’m sorry, I just thought--”

 

“Don’t you come any closer, goddamnit! Just go home or go to whatever pre-war, art deco blahblahblah house that that Gloria woman undoubtedly owns and--”

 

“Gloria?”

Joyce vehemently shook her head. “Yeah, I know all about that.”

 

“Realtor Gloria?” Jim’s voice boomed throughout the store, though the befuddled, slightly high pitch made it a relatively unthreatening volley.

 

“The vavavoom blonde piece who would’ve blown you in the too small kitchen of that cute Cape Cod? Yeah, her.”

 

“Joyce, I’m not with Gloria.” Jim was standing with his front pressed against the counter, his palms flat against the glass top. His voice and eyes were soft as he regarded her - a slight smile on his lips. The news staggered Joyce, causing her to sway forward slightly, close enough to feel his breath against her forehead. She closed her eyes and sighed as she willed the world to stop spinning. 

 

“You’re not?” She inquired with her eyes still closed.

“God, no.”

 

Joyce opened her eyes and furrowed her brow. “Then why are you avoiding our Fridays?” She shivered when he cupped her cheek, and traced a forefinger along her cheekbone. 

 

“Because I’ve been jealous as hell over this mystery man.” 

 

“Jim, I’m not--”

 

“I accidentally saw the pictures.”

 

The shoe, ladies and gentlemen. Joyce reared back and laughed nervously, knowing full well what he was referring to, but not wanting to believe it. “Wh-what photos, Hop?”

 

Donald emerged from the back room, visibly flustered as he marched up to the front counter. “Is everything okay, Joyce?” He gasped when he took notice of Jim. “Oh no, is there some kind of an emergency, Chief?”

 

“Oh, not--”

 

“Yeah, I actually need to see Joyce down at the station. She’s not in trouble, it is a pressing matter… do you mind?”

 

“Not at all! Go on, go on.”

 

Jim gave Joyce a meaningful look before jerking his head towards the door. “Come on, Joyce.” 

 

Well, there was no backing out of the conversation now. Now when Donald thought there was some sort of pressing family emergency and releasing her from work. “Okay,” she responded with a weak smile.

 

“I hope you’re going to do the right thing and pay her for the entire day, Mr. Melvald,” Jim intoned over his shoulder, as he placed a guiding hand on the middle of Joyce’s back and led her to the exit.

 

“Uh-huh, absolutely Chief,” was Donald’s somewhat unenthusiastic response. 

 

“Do you want to talk in the car or…” Joyce trailed off as they walked towards the Blazer.

 

“Are the boys at school?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Your house, if that’s alright.”

 

______________

 

Joyce’s living room was clean, quiet and bright as she and Jim sat on opposite ends of the couch. Joyce crossed her legs and turned towards Jim, who cleared his throat and placed his hands on his knees and stared forward, his breaths deep and steady. 

 

“So, just to recap, neither of us are seeing anyone and you accidentally saw my boudoir photos… I’m going to guess this happened when you were helping me find my keys.”

 

“That would be correct,” he breathed, his face growing flush.

 

“And you’ve been avoiding me because you saw the photos, and instead of talking to me about it, you concocted this mysterious boyfriend that I’ve been hiding from the boys, and Jane and you, and you hated the thought of this imaginary person - you were jealous.”

 

A grunt in response.

 

“Okay. Well, again, I’m not seeing anyone.”

 

“Okay.” He was staring down at his hands, not noticing how she was scooting progressively closer to him on the couch. 

 

“And Claudia Henderson took those photos. It’s her side business. Karen said it would cheer me up and make me feel sexy… I didn’t take those photos for anyone but me and my self-esteem, do you understand?”

 

No response. Joyce scooted closer, reaching out a hand to cup his cheek and guide his mortified gaze towards her face. She felt her heart soften at the pathetic expression, at the dejected slump in his shoulders. With a sigh and a sad smile, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Did you like them?” She purred against his ear.

 

The query broke something inside of Jim; in an instant she was on her back, and he was ravaging her mouth with hard, greedy kisses made the back of her neck tingle, curled her toes and lit a fire between her thighs. He was ruthless and dominating as he licked into her, his hands gripping the back of her skull, fingers tangled in her hair, as he ground his hips against her thigh. 

 

“God, Jesus, fuck, of course I liked them,” he gasped as they broke apart. “They're seared in my brain, I see them every time I close my eyes, even when I don't want to see them, I see them.” His voice was hoarse, thick with such naked emotion that Joyce couldn't help herself; she grabbed the sides of his face and pulled him down to her to swallow his words with a deep, electric kiss.. 

 

“Let's go to my room.”

 

He scooped her up, carrying her through the house - her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms about his shoulders as they stumbled towards the hallway, plundering each other’s mouths with greedy tongues and nipping teeth. Joyce couldn’t believe she was still getting paid over at Melvald’s while doing this at her home. The thought made her giggle as Jim pressed her back against her bedroom door once they were inside, his lips ghosting over the side of her neck, travelling downwards to her suprasternal notch - he jerked his head up at the sound, a frown on his face.

 

“I can’t believe you made Donald keep me on the clock.”

 

They both laughed together at the observation; his was deep and rich, while hers was muffled against the crook of his neck and punctuated by the occasional snort. Joyce didn’t even notice Jim carrying her towards the bed as she lost herself to her helpless giggles - she gave a startled shriek when he dropped her onto the mattress. 

 

“Consider it vacation pay,” he quipped, discarding his clothing. Joyce’s laughter died in her throat as she propped herself up on her elbows and gazed up intently. She bit her bottom lip as he pushed his boxers down past his hips, unable to look away when his cock sprang from its confines - proud and erect - she released the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. 

 

“This works better if you’re naked too,” he teased with a grin, crawling onto the bed and kneeling in front of her. 

 

“Uh-huh,” Joyce breathed, her eyes still fixated on the not unimpressive length of him. He chuckled and reached over to unbutton and unzip her jeans, yanking them down along with her panties before tossing them across the room. “Oh!” She exclaimed, sitting up so she could properly remove her work vest and blouse. She wished she had picked a better bra for the occasion, but it was laundry day and she was pretty sure she wouldn’t be wearing it for long anyway. 

 

“Take that off,” Jim ordered as he pressed a kiss against the side of her right knee - she could feel him smiling when he bestowed another kiss on the left. She quickly obeyed, removing the offending article of clothing so she was completely and utterly exposed. 

 

“Is this okay?” Joyce asked, crossing her arms over her chest when the intensity of his wordless gaze from between her thighs became unbearable . He blinked in astonishment at her question, sitting back on his haunches as he furrowed his brow and squinted, a half-smile on his lips.

 

“Is what okay? You? This? The answer is yes and hell yes. You are just fucking exquisite - I can’t believe I’m here, Joyce. I can’t believe you let--” 

 

“Shut up and fuck me,” she interrupted. 

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

He was upon her once more, careful to not crush her under his weight as his mouth slanted over hers, devouring and desperate, breathing in as she breathed out. She sighed against his mouth as his hands slid up her sides and over his ribs before coming to rest over her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples, teasing them into hard little points as his lips travelled downwards. 

 

“Hop…” She whimpered as he drew one nipple into his mouth, nipping it gently before soothing it with the tip of his tongue. Heat pooled between her thighs, and she felt her hips move against him, desperate to create friction between their bodies. He continued to press kisses down her abdomen as he slipped one hand between them, his fingers probing between her thighs.

 

“God, you’re wet,” he grunted, finding her clit and drawing lazy circles around it with a slick forefinger. Joyce bucked against his hand, a low, keening sound emerging from her lips as words began to fail her. The soft sounds became a crescendo when he replaced his fingers with his mouth, licking into her with enthusiasm and expertise. 

 

“Oh, you really don’t have to - oh! - Nevermind, don’t ever fucking stop,” she moaned as his tongue slipped into her soaked opening, his nose bumping against her clit. She arched her back, throwing one leg over his shoulder, and pressing herself against his mouth as her fingers twined through his hair. His name became a mantra on her lips as she climbed, climbed, climbed towards the precipice, every nerve-ending in her body singing along the way before she crashed down hard, shivering and panting as he kissed his way back up her body to her lips. She hungrily took in her own taste as it clung to his tongue, lips and beard - intoxicating and slightly kinky. 

 

“I’ve wanted to do that for years,” he confessed between slow, filthy kisses. 

 

“Mmm,” Joyce hummed, scooting to one side of the bed so she could reach into the bedside drawer and pull out a condom, not breaking from his kisses as she did so. 

 

“Yeah?” Jim murmured when he took note of the gold-wrapped square. Joyce nodded as she tore the wrapper and reached down to grasp his considerable length, drawing a hiss from his lips as she stroked and teased, her thumb circling the damp tip as she sucked his bottom lip between her teeth and nipped hard enough to feel a slight metallic tang against her tongue. He growled in response, rocking his hips against her hand. “Fuck sake, you’re a tease,” he moaned when she lifted her hips and pulled him against her slit, rubbing his tip against her sodden opening. 

“I know,” she responded before finally rolling the condom over his cock and releasing her grip. He gave another growl that shivered through her body before wrapping his arms around her and pulling himself into a sitting position with her in tow - she settled onto his cock with a sharp moan, he was so big it was almost painful. His eyes met her, pupils blown as he gazed at her with reverent wonder. 

 

“Are you okay?” He asked, stroking her neck and back as she adjusted to his girth. She nodded with her eyes closed, brushing her lips against his. 

 

“Perfect,” she sighed before beginning to move against him. The soothing hands on her back turned into an almost painful grip as she rode him, rotating her hips and squeezing her walls around him as they rose and fell together. “God, that feels wonderful…”

 

“Finally,” he groaned, biting down on her shoulder as she increased her pace, her senseless murmuring turning into sharp, staccato cries as she threw her head back allowed hot waves of relief wash over her. He followed shortly after, his breath coming out ragged and hot as he trembled and released. They parted and settled onto the bed, soft laughter breaking through their panting. 

 

“So…” Joyce trailed off, suddenly shy. 

 

“So,” Jim repeated lowly, craning his neck to smile over at her. He reached over and took the hand that rested at her side, bringing it to his lips. 

 

“I’m glad you liked the photos… it wasn’t for you, but it’s flattering to get such a - you know - enthusiastic response.” Her remark prompted a bark of laughter from Jim, he covered his face as his shoulders shook. She grinned at his obvious amusement. 

 

“You’re welcome. Any chance I could get one of those?” 

 

Joyce shook her head. “Nope. They’re for me. You can look at them when you visit, but they stay here.”

 

Jim turned on his side to face her. “You want me to keep visiting?”

 

“Of course. If that’s what you want… I know you have a bit of a reputation.”

 

“Had. This is the first time I’ve been with a woman in… fucking forever, I guess. Maybe since before the whole Will thing.”

 

Joyce’s eyes widened as she mimicked his position, propping her head up with hand. “Oh?”

 

“Well, you know, hiding a kid from the government really puts a damper on those things.”

“I’m sure.”

 

“But this was… this was special to me, and I’d really like it to not be a one-time thing. Is that okay?”

 

Joyce bit her lip to suppress the wide grin breaking across her features, her cheeks burning and her eyes sparking. “Yeah, Hop. That’s okay.”

 

“Definite no on the pictures though.”

 

“‘Fraid so.”

 

________________

 

Jim was late to work again. It had been two weeks since he and Joyce had become reacquainted, and every time he visited her or she visited him, leaving bed had become progressively more difficult. 

 

He grabbed his coffee and apple, said a few sarcastic hellos to his coworkers and walked into his office. The first thing he noticed was the large, manilla envelope on the top of his desk. His name was written on the front, and he recognized Joyce’s elegant, looping scrawl. His heart hammered against his chest as he settled into his desk chair. He sucked in his lips and picked up the envelope, reaching inside to pull out the contents.

 

Inside was a small stack of polaroids, featuring Joyce. She was in a variety of poses on her bed - clearly operating the camera herself - wearing thigh-high stockings, black high-heels, a mischievous smile, and nothing else. Jim felt unbearably hot beneath his uniform as he checked the envelope for a note. Sure enough, he found one.

 

_ These ones are definitely just for you.  _


End file.
